


Lies my Mother Told Me

by Chibiness87



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Epiphanies, F/M, Pining, Romance, and full of denial to boot, these two are just too adorable for words sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 04:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19124854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: Of all the tales he’s ever known, he’s found the ones that end “and they lived happily ever after” are the ones that lie the most.Or: four times John saves Elizabeth, one time he didn’t (and one time she saves him)





	Lies my Mother Told Me

**Author's Note:**

> I... did a thing. I re-watched a few episodes, and my muse took off, and well... this just sort of... happened.

**Lies my mother told me** , by **chibiness87**  
**Rating:** T  
**Season/Spoilers** : Let’s say everything, just to be safe  
**Pairings:** John/Elizabeth  
**Disclaimer:** not mine

* * *

 

Of all the tales he’s ever known, he’s found the ones that end “and they lived happily ever after” are the ones that lie the most.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a beautiful city. Spreading a vast distance, this city was known for its towers and turrets, rising high into the sky. A great stone circle stood proudly in the mart, a doorway for others to use. But although grand in appearance, this city no longer thrived with the sound of markets and traders. No men worked, nor any woman, and the pitter-patter of small feet had been absent for many a year. Instead, the halls echoed in loneliness, and the labs lay dormant. Living quarters lay abandoned, food areas quiet. The once grand city fell silent, so even those who once travelled there for trade and tales started to talk of it as it once was. As time carried on, these tales passed on to the next generation, and the next, until the city became legend, and the people who once lived there myths. And it is here, amongst the myths and the legends, that our tale truly begins.

“…so then I told Rodney to just get on with it and send a report through when he was done. That okay with you?”

“Hmmm?”

John smirks. “You haven’t heard a thing I’ve just told you, have you.”

She bristles. “What? Of course I have. Rodney found a new lab, and is investigating its cause.” She pauses. “Please tell me you at least made sure it wasn’t going to blow up on him before you came here to tell me that.”

He blinks at her. “Would I do a thing like that?”

A raised eyebrow is all he gets in reply. Idly, he wonders if there’s a class somewhere that teaches all leaders the importance of the eyebrow raise, or if it’s something that just seems to come to them all in time. He huffs a sigh. “Yes, I made sure he wasn’t about to blow anything up.”

“Good.”

Making his way into the room, he perches on the corner of her desk. Ignoring her pointed look as he has done ever since claiming this particular spot of her office as his, he lets his eyes track over the room. Even now, all these months later, he still doesn’t quite like all the glass. The solider in him that never quite turns off feels exposed. Not for the first time, he wonders what this tower was actually used for, back when the city was a thriving hub.

“Was there something else?”

He’s shaking his head, denial on his lips, when a rumbling shakes the tower. He doesn’t even think, just throws himself at her, pulling her under him even as the glass walls shatter around them.

They lie there for a minute, waiting for more, but there are no further disruptions. With a firm glare, he starts to stand, pausing when she moves to follow suit.

“Stay down.”

“But…”

“Dr. Weir.” He pauses. “ _Elizabeth_. Please, stay down.”

Waiting until she nods, he slowly raises, pleased when this time she stays put. Making his way over to the previous wall, glass crunching under his every step, he pulls his Beretta from his thigh holster. Using what little protection he has he peers down and round, to see the control room in utter chaos. Refining his grip on the pistol, it takes him a moment to understand that while people do seem to be scurrying about with more urgency than normal, there is no hostile threat. Indeed, everyone seems to be more concerned about the structure of the walls than anything else, so he’s pretty sure they’re not under attack.

A crunch from behind him has him spinning in place, gun up and safety off before he realises its nothing more than his boss coming up behind him. He glares, the one that normally means _what the genuine fuck are you doing_ , but unlike other soldiers under his command, the good doctor just stands there with a glare of her own. When he doesn’t move, she adds in the raised eyebrow, and he belatedly realises he’s still pointing a gun at her.

Snapping the safety on, he’s ready to yell at her, when his radio chooses that moment to activate.

“Are you okay?”

“McKay?”

“I think I might have accidentally activated a power surge. I’ve traced it to the control room… you guys are okay, right?”

It’s Weir who answers. “We’re fine, Rodney.”

“Oh, good.” The voice is in stereo, and John turns to see the Canadian step into the room. “You won’t believe what… whoa, what happened here?”

Weir looks around the mess, before meeting John’s eye for a moment. Now that they are no longer in imminent danger, he can see a faint glint in her eye. “I felt like redecorating.”

McKay gives them both a long look. Evidently deciding absence would be the better part of valour, he turns and leaves the room.

John fixes her with a glare, adrenaline still pulsing, heart still racing. He spies a large chunk of glass where she had been standing. If he’d been a fraction slower in pulling her away… “Redecorating?”

She shrugs. “Looks like it, doesn’t it?”

He takes in the carnage around them. It looks more like the control tower blew up on them, and they were lucky not to be more seriously damaged. He shakes his head slightly, before turning back to her. “I’ll go see about finding something to patch up these walls for you.”

“Thanks.” She flashes him a smile, which does not help his adrenaline levels at all. “And Ma… John?”

“Hmmm?”

The smile slips, and her voice is oddly sincere. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. He can’t let her get to him. He just… can’t. “Just doing my job,” he says, before leaving the remains of her office.

* * *

 

The mission was supposed to be safe. Easy.

He should have known something like this was going to happen.

Ronon and Teyla are guarding the gate while he’s guarding Elizabeth. Not that he’s crazy enough to admit that out loud. To anyone. Especially Elizabeth herself.

There’s a faint hum in his veins that he gets whenever anything Ancient is about, and it soothes him and worries him in equal parts. But it is only when McKay gives a startled yelp that the worry takes over. Energy is building up, he can feel it. And then the ruins start to spark, and he’s up and across the mere feet between himself and Elizabeth before she can do more than blink.

Rumbling starts then, deep and ominous, and he pushes her away from the ruins. “Go!”

She takes a step, two, and he’s right behind her, when he feels the earth beneath him start to give way. Hurrying his pace, he grabs her arm, all but pulling her with him. “Run!”

Pulling her with him slows his pace, but there is no way he’s letting her go. A quick glance behind lets him know the ruins are collapsing, and it is enough to spur a spike of adrenaline. Under his feet, cracks begin to appear, and he shoves Elizabeth forward even as the ground gives way and he falls.

He lands awkwardly, knowing without moving his leg is broken at the very least, if not his ribs. The sudden silence around him lets him know the earthquake or whatever it was has stopped, just as sudden as it started. His radio crackles in his ear, but it’s too much effort to respond. A movement above makes him squint, before he makes out her face, peering down from the top of the sudden ravine he’s found himself in.

It is only the knowledge that she is safe which allows him to sink into the welcoming black.

* * *

 

It takes him a few hours to realise she is missing.

Well, missing in the sense of unable to be located. But the techs in the control room are adamant she hasn’t gone off-world, and she would need someone to fly her to the mainland. So he’s pretty certain she’s still in the city, somewhere.

Only, Atlantis isn't exactly small, and she’s been gone for a few hours now.

She really could be anywhere.

He checks the obvious places first. Her office and the balcony, the mess. The gym. He even badgers Carson for a few minutes until he throws him out of the infirmary, no more the wiser as to her location as he was when he first started his search. He passes her quarters, and even though he knows it’s a breach of her privacy, uses his own advanced gene to open the door. But she’s no more there than she has been in any other place he’s looked, and he’s beginning to worry.

Trying her on the radio once more, he bows his head when she still doesn’t answer. Dejected, he makes his way to his own quarters, pulling his shirt over his head as he enters the room. Tossing it onto a chair, he’s mid-reach for a clean one when something out of the corner of his eye has him turning.

Curled up tight, pillow hugged to her stomach, Elizabeth lies on his bed. The sight of her here, like this, does something in his chest, and he swallows. Approaching slowly, he sees the hunch in her shoulders, the tenseness of the muscles in her arms. Her hands are in fists, her eyes flicking back and forth behind her eyelids.

She’s dreaming.

Pulling a blanket free, he’s about to place it over her when she starts moaning. Her hands are clenching tightly to his pillow, her head beginning to toss about. Before he can do more than drop the blanket to one side, her eyes fly open, wild and afraid.

“’Lizabeth?”

Slowly, his hand comes up to take her hand, but she gasps, shrinking back from him. “Don’t touch me!”

Immediately he stops, hands wide open and in the air. “Okay.”

“This isn't real.”

Not for the first time, he curses the nanites which infected her. Closing his eyes for a moment, he forces himself to breathe. To be calm. The last thing she needs right now is for him to lose it. “Course it’s real.”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “No. No, it’s not. It’s not. I…”

Desperate, he thinks of what he can do to help her. He’s never seen her like this. Of the two of them, she is the one who always seems to know what to say.

In the end, the only thing he can think to ask is, “Why isn't it real?”

She stops at that. Stares at him. Floundering for an answer.

“Because of the stargate? Because of the Wraith? Yeah,” he nods slowly, “I can see how that sounds completely crazy. But if they’re not real, then nothing else is either. And I know you’re a genius, I know you’re like, the best linguist I have ever met. I know you think nothing is here, that it’s all in your head, but that means you thought up McKay by yourself too. And I don’t think even someone like you, someone as clever and wonderful and amazing as you, would think up someone like him.”

She blinks, her eyes clearing. Reaching forward, her hand lands on his chest, just above his heart. He can feel it thump in his chest at the contact. Wonders if she can do the same. Quiet, timid, for the first time since waking she looks _at_ him. “John?”

He nods, relief filling him. “Yeah, ‘Lizabeth. I’m here.” Slipping to his knees, he takes her hand, pulls it to his lips for a moment. Presses a kiss to her palm. “I’m here.”

She breaks down, tears he knows she hasn’t shed since waking up in the infirmary sliding down her cheeks, sods wracking her frame. His arms come around her, holding her to him, hand sliding through her hair repeatedly. Rocking her gently, he tells her over and over again. “I’m here.”

* * *

 

The message comes through, and he has to get Lorne to repeat himself twice before the true meaning clicks into is brain.

He makes his way to the centre of the village, biting back a grin when he sees her. She looks… put out would be putting it mildly. Downright annoyed is closer. And then it hits him.

Embarrassed.

So with supreme effort, he refrains from giving her hell for getting herself into this particular… situation. Instead, he approaches the person pointed out as the leader.

“Is this really necessary?”

The leader turns. He’s older than most of the assembled gathering, and John briefly wonders if he’s the leader by popular vote or by age. The thought is gone, however, when the elder’s lip sneers up into a scowl. “She broke our laws.”

He glances over at her, eyebrow raised in question. She gives a minute shake of her head. The way her head is tilted gives him a clear view of a bruise beginning to form on her cheek; something he missed when he passed her earlier.

He feels something primal rear up inside. Biting back the urge to shoot every person here for allowing someone to do that to her, to Elizabeth, he all but growls out, “What law?”

The elder shrugs. “She travelled here alone. Without her husband. You are lucky she is not of this world; she may have faced a stoning if you had not come to claim her as your own.”

A _stoning_? There ain’t no way in hell. Keeping his eyes fixed on the elder, he lets his voice go cold with the violent urge he is doing his damnedest to ignore. “Well, I’m here now.”

The elder gives him a searching look. “Yes, you are.” He glances behind John, back to where Elizabeth sits, chained in a fairly good impersonation of a middle ages stockade. “But what is she to you, I wonder?”

He doesn’t even think. “Everything.”

There is a startled gasp, and he knows without looking it came from Elizabeth herself. Unfortunately, the elder hears it too. Turning to her, he demands, “You deny this claim?”

Panic gripping him, John glares at her, demanding with his eyes that for once, _for once_ she just **_play along_**.

Just when he thinks he’s going to have to blast their way out of here, he sees her shoulders slip. Just a little, but enough for him to know she’s seen this is their best way out of here and off this planet without resorting to violence.

“No.” Glancing slightly to the left, her eyes catch his. “I do not refute his claim,” she says, but he hears the other message anyway.

The elder pauses. Gives them both a long look, eventually forcing their gazes from each other. “Yes,” he says, “I can see your bond is true.” With a flick in the direction of a couple of the men present, he nods in Elizabeth’s direction. “Release her to her husband.”

They nod, moving over to the shackles at the end of the stockade. John watches on, fingers twitching on the butt of his P-90, ready to take action should one of them get any ideas about adding to the bruise on her cheek. But as soon as the chains are free, they step back, and it is John himself who steps forward to help her to stand.

She waivers slightly, and he changes his grip on her, letting her lean against his side. Head close, he murmurs, “I’ve got you, it’s okay,” just loudly enough for her to hear.

She sighs against him. “Get me out of here.”

He smiles. Unable to resist, hoping she’ll chalk it up to the charade he’s playing, he presses a kiss to her hair. “Yes Ma’am.”

Slowly, they begin to make their way from the central square. It is only when they have passed out of the village and back on the marked path to the gate that she nudges him gently in the side, getting him to release his hold on her. He pauses, makes sure she’s stable on her own feet, eyes tracking over her face, landing once more on her bruise.

Without his permission, his hand comes up and traces the blemished skin. “I could have killed them for this alone.”

Her eyes widen slightly for a moment, before they close, and she nods. “I know.”

Pulling her to his chest for a moment, he presses his face to her neck, breathing her in. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

There is something too honest in his tone, something even he didn’t realise was there until an hour ago. His answer of _Everything_ echoes loudly in his head. He expects her to pull away, to demand what that’s supposed to mean, but instead she just burrows closer to him.

“I won’t.”

* * *

 

The shield comes up, and the cheers rise with them. He smiles, relief filling him, only for sudden yelling taking over his radio. Words coming too fast and too brittle and not all of them in English, but enough he gets the gist.

He really, really wishes he didn’t.

She looks small, is his first thought. Small and fragile, and if there were any words he would never have thought to use to describe the woman attached to every monitor he can name (and a few he can’t) these would be pretty damned up there.

“How is she?”

“Weak.”

He nods, like he understands. He doesn’t.

Keller looks up, gives him a small twitch of her lips. It’s not a smile, not even close, but he thinks it could have been. “You can stay.”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. Atlantis needs him, the press of duty never feeling more on his shoulders than in this moment. But he can’t bring himself to step away.

“It’s my fault.”

The words escape without his permission, loud in the otherwise quiet room. He doesn’t know if he means this situation, or the whole thing in general. If only he’d never woken the Wraith. If only he had never sat in the chair in Antarctica and made this whole thing possible.

If only he hadn’t fallen in love with her.

Keller remains silent, only the constant beeping and whooshing of the machines keeping her alive make any noise. Any judgement.

They sound judgemental enough.

* * *

 

He opens the door, expecting to see his driver (because he has stars on his uniform now, and apparently they come with such things), only to stop. Stare. Unable to move, to breathe. Truthfully, it is all he can do to stay upright at this point. The figure before him smiles softly, before reaching out and touches his hand. He blinks, and she stays.

She _stays_.

He wants to say something. Something like “How?”, or “Are you okay?”, or “Have I finally snapped and this is all a crazy ass dream and I’m actually in another reality?”, or “Please, please tell me this is true”. What comes out is hardly more than a whisper, broken and pained with hope. “‘Liz’beth?”

She smiles. “Hello, John.”

 

* * *

 

Their story does not start with once upon a time, and doesn’t end happily ever after. But the important thing to remember is this: _they lived._

* * *

 

End

Thoughts?


End file.
